


The Surrogate

by Emilys_List



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, The Sessions, surrogate partner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilys_List/pseuds/Emilys_List
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark visits a sex surrogate partner to help with a sexual dysfunction. Eduardo is that surrogate. Or, that fic where Mark and Wardo fuck a lot but - oh noes! - they're not supposed to fall in love!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Session One

**Author's Note:**

> The extent of my knowledge on this topic consists of seeing the film _The Sessions_ and reading Cheryl Cohen-Greene's memoir, _An Intimate Life: Sex, Love, and My Journey as a Surrogate Partner_ , which is to say that I am not expert but have done my best to make this as clinical as possible while not interfering with the sexytimes. To learn more about this topic, visit: surrogatetherapy.org.
> 
> Disclaimer continues on to say: the characters of Mark and Eduardo do not belong to me now or ever.

His own personal style is comprised of sleek lines, steel, and whatever feels modern. He respects tradition but believes that change is inevitable, and what's more is that it's exciting. Enviable. Invigorating.

His office is an entirely different thing, an aesthetic composed to put his clients at ease. It reeks of a Bay Area sensibility, reclaimed wood and fresh wildflowers in mason jars. The sitting room where his new client meets him is Arts and Crafts style, with deep and comfortable leather chairs that are worn and framed with wood, and a broad coffee table that looks like a Nakashima - but he's not a billionaire like his client so it's just a knock off. 

Eduardo leads his new client in, trying not to stare too much. The referring sex therapist Dr. Belinda Tan had said he was in tech, and that he had trouble getting and maintaining an erection, something that did not help but was not the main culprit of his frustrations. "He's brilliant," Belinda had said, "but that's been isolating. He's one of these tech guys who made a lot of money early, so his circle is his circle from college, a small and loyal band. But he has trouble meeting potential partners, and with the physiological issue, that makes the problem tenfold."

He accepted and made an appointment with Mark, without any realization until opening his office door that Mark was Mark Zuckerberg. 

Mark now sits across from Eduardo, phone in hand, fidgeting and staring at the floor. 

With a smile Eduardo cracks his notebook open and tries to remain entirely professional, tries not to gawk. "Okay, Mark, so Dr. Tan and I have spoken, of course, but it's important for me to hear from you as well."

Without looking up Mark taps his phone against the chair, plastic against the hard wood of the chair arm. "Is that a question."

Eduardo sets his mouth into a smile and nods. "It is. Yeah. Tell me why you're here."

Mark exhales. He doesn't speak for a full beat, but Eduardo is used to the drill and patiently waits until Mark is ready to begin. "I've been seeing a therapist on and off for... a few years. After founding my company and-" He breaks off here and finally turns his intense gaze onto Eduardo. "You know who I am."

Eduardo nods.

"And even though you're not actually a doctor, you're still bound by patient-doctor confidentiality, right? Or, patient ... whatever you are."

In the most calm voice he can muster, Eduardo replies, "I am a trained and licensed surrogate partner. I also have a doctorate in human sexuality, but even if I didn't you would still enjoy patient-doctor confidentiality."

"Oh, I'm not enjoying this," Mark says drily and Eduardo kind of has to admit... good one.

"In any case, Mark, you were telling me, you were in therapy on and off. Were you there to work on anything in particular?"

Mark shrugs. "I have a demanding job. My - I'm very public and I don't want to be." He shrugs again and says, "The usual boy billionaire, self-indulgent bullshit." He crosses his arms and slouches down in the chair, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. "Plus, my friend Dustin threatened me."

Eduardo makes a note and smiles into the pages of his notebook. "With what?" 

"Making me talk to my mother. She's, uh, she's a psychologist." Eduardo makes some more notes. "What are you writing?"

Eduardo shakes his head. "Don't worry about that, Mark. So you were seeing a therapist."

"Yes."

"And that therapist referred you to Dr. Tan."

Mark nods.

"Why did you go see Dr. Tan?" Eduardo asks.

Mark glares at him, his steely face hard and his expression impenetrable. "My cock doesn't work. Should I be more clinical?"

Eduardo bites his lip. He can tell he's being provoked; it's almost cute. "You could be more specific," he replies. "But don't worry about the way you say it."

Mark shifts in his chair. "I can't get," he says, trailing off, making a fist and extending his forearm. "Hard." He drops his arm into his lap and looks to the floor.

Eduardo scribbles down some more notes. "Well, you can, Mark. I know from Dr. Tan that it's not a physiological problem, you had a full work up."

Mark's mouth twists into a wry smile. "A full work up is exactly right."

"So, it's something we can work on." Eduardo smiles. "Which is great. So, tell me, you have a challenge getting an erection. Let's say - let's say you become erect. What happens then?"

"I can't - keep it. I go - soft."

"Alone or with partners?"

"Both," Mark says, biting his lip.

Eduardo already knows the answer, and Mark knows he already knows because he's here, but he still needs to ask, "And have these partners been male?"

Mark nods once. "Yes."

"Exclusively?" Mark nods again and Eduardo scribbles some more. "And in the future? You can see yourself being with male partners?"

Mark nods again, and he can tell Mark is desperately trying not to look at Eduardo's crotch, which is fine and normal, but Eduardo still crosses his legs to cut down on temptation.

"Okay," Eduardo says nodding, scribbling more notes. He closes his notebook and sets it aside. "I'm going to tell you about my work, and what we're going to do. So. We'll have no more than eight sessions, typically six to eight-"

"So that us poor fucks don't get attached?" Mark asks sharply.

Eduardo tilts his head to the side. "Because it doesn't take very long. While everyone is different, our work together can take as little or long as it will; we'll just have to wait and see."

Mark nods. He looks bored and Eduardo soldiers on.

"We'll start today with a scan of your body, what feels good, and progress from there."

"And then what?" Mark prods.

Eduardo nods seriously. "And then we'll see. I don't want to - I don't want to chart the course just yet. This could go very quickly, or we could divert and take our time. I don't want to prophesize." He nods. "Before we begin, do you have questions for me?"

Mark leans forward. "I've done my homework on you, what there is on you. You went to Harvard, same as me. You come from a wealthy family. You're gay. You're not, even though your office suggests otherwise, a hippie. So, what's your deal? Why do you do this?"

Eduardo leans forward too. "Why do you do what you do?"

Even in his slouch forward, Mark straightens his back. "You have sex for money. I don't think that asking why is such a-"

"Mark, I'm going to stop you there. I want to just clarify what I do. Surrogate work is not only about sex - what I do is concerned with sexuality, and the body as well as the mind. It's all connected. What we'll do together will vary. Some clients, we barely touch." And this point he underlines so hard, "I am not a sex worker."

Mark splutters. "I, I didn't say you were."

Eduardo holds his hand up; a white flag. "Mark, I know. And there's nothing wrong with it, at all, it's just not my line of work and I want us to be very clear." Mark nods once. 

Eduardo stands. "Okay. Good! Let's get started," he says, and walks down the hall. Mark follows. 

The other main room of the office is a bedroom, retrofitted for his use with the same aesthetic as the meeting room - wood, simplicity, and comfort. When Mark joins him, standing awkwardly on the other side of the bed, Eduardo gives him a big smile. "I'm going to get undressed and get into the bed, under the sheet. You can watch me, or not, it's up to you."

"And what do I do?" Mark asks, slow on purpose, sarcastically.

Smartass. "You should do the same."

Eduardo unbuttons his shirt and sheds it, setting it aside. He takes off his shoes and socks. He unbuttons his pants, and unzips them, climbing out one leg at a time.

Mark pulls his t-shirt off and crosses his skinny arms, halting in his undressing, almost as if to say, you first. Eduardo goes full monty and pulls his boxers off with ease, keeping his gaze on Mark. Mark's eyes drop to Eduardo's dick, but Eduardo climbs into bed. He wants them to start.

Mark is quick then, shedding boxers and jeans, and climbs in next to Eduardo, who props himself up with his head in his hand, rolled onto his side. He notes Mark's paleness, his thin frame. His discomfort with nudity, while not unnatural.

"Good, Mark. Okay. So what we'll do now is - touch. I will start with your head, go down past your feet, and then you'll turn over. And then you'll touch me." Mark's pale skin is turning pink. "You don't have to do anything but tell me what feels good and what doesn't, and I'll do the same for you. Okay?"

Mark nods while looking petrified, but Eduardo's not deterred. That's par for the course at this moment, and then it eases. "I'm starting here," he says, raking his fingers through Mark's curly hair. "I like your hair. Soft, wild. But managed."

"It got me teased as a kid," he grouses.

Eduardo is leaning over his body, resting on one arm, looking down into Mark's eyes. "I'm sure no one's teasing you about your hair now," he replies, and Mark nods solemnly.

Eduardo runs his fingers over his ears and down his face, across his jaw. He touches his neck, collarbone, chest. Nipples. There, he pays a little attention, and it's the first time Mark comments on this process. "That's - uh - that's good. I like that?"

Eduardo smiles to himself as he runs his hands down Mark's arms, over his stomach, down his hips, and over his cock, in one slow run. Mark shivers and Eduardo can see him getting erect. He smoothes his hands down his legs and feet.

"You were pretty quiet, Mark. How was that?"

Mark nods. "Yeah, good." He doesn't acknowledge his erection and Eduardo won't push him.

"Okay. Please turn over."

Slowly Mark rotates, hands and elbows and knees, and then Mark's ass and legs are exposed. Eduardo starts again on his feet and cruises up his legs, pale and sparsely hairy, and his ass, tight and small. At his waist he trails up his back, more pale and freckled skin, and swipes his fingers up his neck and back into his hair.

At this point Mark is breathing regularly, freely, almost drowsily. "Okay, Mark, you can turn over." He does, going with a small and relaxed smile on his face. 

"That felt - good," Mark says begrudgingly.

Eduardo is pleased. "I'm glad to hear that, Mark. So, the next step is for you to repeat everything I just did, on me. How does that seem?"

Mark looks apprehensive, but not uninterested. Eduardo lays down and Mark is the one to reach over. Mark's touch is much more rough than his own, and speedier, rushed, but in their proximity Mark is staying erect. When he's on his laying on his front and Mark's hands go careening over his ass, Eduardo's hips buck involuntarily. He's not always aroused by what clients do, and it was surprisingly effective and erotic. Mark seems to notice, and he doubles back over Eduardo's ass, then up his torso to his shoulders, slower now.

"So how was that?" Mark asks patronizingly. 

Eduardo turns his head to look at him. "Good. You could've taken more time, but I liked the way you touched me, particularly my ass. My legs, too."

Mark is clearly fighting a smug smile. "Okay."

"Are you still erect, Mark?" Mark peeks under the blanket and shakes his head, no, but Eduardo is undeterred. "Still, it was great that you were even erect at all. It doesn't happen for everyone in the first session." To Eduardo's delight, Mark looks pleased by this. "That was a great session! I'm glad, Mark." Eduardo nods. "And when you're ready you can get dressed."

Mark nods in quick succession, and they both get up to dress, pulling on underwear and pants. Eduardo is pleased when Mark is able to say, "I liked - I like... watching you undress. And then get dressed. You have a great body. I wish I wasn't so... thin."

Eduardo stifles a smile. "Thanks for your honesty, Mark. That's flattering. It's - nice to do that. When you have a partner, that's the kind of thing he'd want to hear." 

Mark nods like he's taking note, then finishes getting dressed with his back turned to Eduardo, which he finds inexplicably interesting and earnest. When they're both dressed, Eduardo brings out his phone to schedule the next appointment and they do so, a week from next Tuesday.

As Mark is on his way out, after awkwardly slipping Eduardo a check, Eduardo stops him by saying, "One down, Mark. I think you're doing great."

Mark turns briefly and says nothing, only flashes him a smile that he gladly accepts.


	2. Session Two

Their next session begins about as well as their first did. Mark reminds Eduardo of a skittish cat - anticipating the worst, his back up - and it takes all the tools in his tool chest to make him relax. 

"Talk to me about coding," Eduardo requests, right before he pulls his t-shirt over his head and off. When he looks back at Mark, Mark's mouth is hanging open just the smallest amount, staring openly at Eduardo. But then a scowl fills his lips.

"Is this a distractionary tactic? Do people actually fall for this?"

"People are complicated," Eduardo says, and he knows for sure that Mark's eyes have fallen to the gold chain around his neck, and the ring that hangs from the gold links. "It's more like a matrix of things and not one." He doesn't take his eyes off Mark as he sits on the bed, pulling his loafers off and setting them aside.

Mark consents to unzipping his hoodie and setting it aside, and that's all.

"I'm genuinely interested in your work," Eduardo says. He stays seated to unbutton and unzip his pants. 

Mark wets his lips. "Uh, what do you want to know?"

"Well, I know there's something called HTML," Mark rolls his eyes here and Eduardo is secretly pleased, "and I know that there's binary. I know the difference between hardware and software." He shrugs and sheds his pants and underwear, sitting on the bed bare assed, and Mark's eyes don't even pretend not to look.

Eduardo doesn't usually employ trickery. It's not really the best approach when trying to teach clients how to be honest and open; it's not good role modeling. But, not all clients are like Mark, completely guarded and closed up like they're protecting something precious and secret. Hopefully Eduardo can be forgiven for his lack of transparency in this particular method.

"Coding is. Well. Web development is not just coding. There's, um," and here Mark is tiling his head to the side, scratching at the back of his neck. He leaves his arm there until he's shocked out of his reverie. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"I was asking about your work, but you seem distracted," Eduardo says as lightly as possible, no trace of teasing behind his words.

Mark shakes his head, blushing.

"Can you do me a favor, Mark? Can you take off your clothes, too, and join me in bed?"

Mark's expression is one of revelation, a 'what a great idea!' look on his face. Eduardo gets under the sheet and reclines against the headboard, and Mark speeds out of his clothes, joining Eduardo in bed.

Eduardo runs one hand down Mark's chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding there. "You did really well just now, Mark. But you should know - in a situation like that, a partner is giving signals. I got undressed because I was hoping to be... intimate. I was inviting you."

Mark flinches. "You were not just doing that, you were asking asinine questions-"

"I was trying - Mark." Eduardo never loses his cool with patients, but he feels like Mark's always testing him. He hopes not to snap. "Our work together - I want you to try approaching it in another way. I know it's hard at this stage, but this isn't root canal. You're not being circumcised as an adult. This is..." He struggles to find what he needs to say. "There aren't any stakes here, Mark. No goals. The only goal is progress, but even if we make none - which is impossible because we already had some in our last session - coming here and trying is progress itself.

"I want you start practicing how you'd approach an encounter with a partner. Sure, you might be anxious about it, but it's exciting. The possibility of sex. Intimacy. " He presses a hand to Mark's sternum, and moves it ever so slightly and slowly, soothingly, back and forth. "Okay?" He asks.

Throughout his talk, Mark has looked ready to overthrow and rebel, but now with Eduardo's hand on him he looks docile. Mark nods once curtly.

The hand on Mark's chest, he slides it down, lower, until it meets the base of Mark's cock. He takes in Mark's expression which looks - neutral. Okay. "Today we're going to do some more exploring, only more focused. You'll go first, and I'll touch your genitals." Mark wrinkles his nose and Eduardo asks, "Is that a problem?"

"'Genitals,'" Mark repeats, making a face of displeasure.

"It's what they're called. So I touch - you, and then it's your turn to touch me. Okay?"

Mark looks at ease, although also like he's trying to fight it at the same time. He lays all the way back and spreads his legs in a certain kind of yes.

Eduardo lays down on his side and strokes Mark's cock, still soft. He's slow and deliberate, noticing veins with his fingertips, gliding the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock. He skims back up, on the underside, and then reaches back to touch his balls, holding them lightly, barely. Then he's more firm, cupping, and a single soft sigh escapes Mark's throat, and Eduardo watches Mark. He looks ecstatic and enthralled.

He reaches farther back and strokes Mark's perineum, and back, and he ghosts one fingertip against his hole. Mark practically jumps, but judging by his face and his erection not in a bad way. He leaves his finger where it is, circling off and on.

Eduardo finds that he's finding this arousing. Usually he will know ahead of time what might get him hard - broad shoulders, an easy smile, a moaner - but this is a total surprise. Not unwelcome, just a surprise. He manages to find his voice and words when he says, "So, last time we reviewed other parts of your body. Sensation and arousal are possible anywhere on one's body, as we... um... know." He's having trouble concentrating. "Building on that, we started with this today. What did you think?"

Mark looks down and Eduardo follows his eyes. He's lost his hard on, and Mark's gritting his teeth. "Fuck," he mutters.

"Mark, don't worry about it," Eduardo says encouragingly. "The fact that you're hard at all is immensely important. Nothing physiological is at play-"

"Just my stupid fucking mind-"

"Mark, Jesus fucking Christ," Eduardo says, lashing out. His eyes dart to Mark's, worried, and find a smirk there.

"Usually takes people less time to curse Jesus in my presence," he says.

Despite his frustration, Eduardo laughs, flopping back on the bed. 

"Okay, Mark," he says. "And, you know, sorry." He turns his head towards Mark. "I didn't mean to lose my... cool." 

Mark shrugs. "It happens."

Eduardo exhales. "But it really shouldn't. I, shouldn't. I need to be more composed."

Mark shrugs again and Eduardo wants to pounce on this asshole, tell him where to shove that shrug, ride his cock -

Whoa.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, chasing his hard on with ice cold thoughts of his parents arguing. He wishes he had just a second to deal with this, to think through this fantasy, but he doesn't have the time; he has more pressing issues. Like:

"Mark, it's your turn, now. To, uh, touch me."

Mark doesn't look beaten down now. He looks... hungry. He pulls the sheet off to look at Eduardo, which throws Eduardo off not even a little, and he makes his way to his cock, one hand loose around it from shaft to tip. "You have a long cock," Mark says neutrally, truly an observation. 

"Subjective," Eduardo says, as Mark strokes up, then down again. "Mark, this is an exploration, this isn't-"

"I'm exploring," Mark interrupts petulantly, but then he's moving off, following the same path Eduardo did, from balls to taint to his hole - and that's where Eduardo moans uncontrollably. He tries to stop it in his throat but he can't and it's just hanging out there, Mark grinning at the triumph, pulling his hands away.

He's not against expressing pleasure in something a client does. Furthermore, it's a great opportunity to display positive reinforcement and natural behavior in a partner. There's something about this moment, though, that takes him by surprise. It's like he forgot he was working with a client, Mark forcing out a raw and unvarnished expression from deep within him. It throws him off, especially that fucking grin.

"So that's good," Mark asks smugly.

Eduardo nods. 

"You should probably say more about it," Mark prods. "Be honest." Eduardo can feel himself being parodied much to his chagrin. 

"That felt good," Eduardo admits. 

"What do you like?" Mark asks.

He's not sure what that means. "What do I... like?"

"Are you a top or a bottom?"

Eduardo bites his lip before answering. "That's not really relevant, only because - in this work, it doesn't much matter. I can be whatever someone needs." He ducks his head and continues, "But personally I'm more into... receiving."

Without preamble Mark slides his hand back to Eduardo, and he touches his hole again, lightly, and again Eduardo gasps.

"I'm hard," Mark says, quietly, as if to not spook his erection. "Is it okay if I touch you?" He asks, not stopping his hand to ask.

"Sure," Eduardo says. "Thanks for-" And then Mark presses more urgently with his finger, and Eduardo wants so very badly to grab the lube and the condoms from the bedside table, but that would be about him when it's not. It's too soon for that in his progress with Mark. Instead, he reaches out for Mark's cock, and Mark cries out when he does, and they are together chest to chest, Mark pressing down on him, just like Eduardo likes.

"Can I kiss you?" Mark asks breathlessly. Eduardo doesn't answer, just kisses him in reply. It's messy and wet and passionate, and they keep kissing as Mark's hand travels and begins to jerk Eduardo off.

Eduardo is getting close, and for Mark's benefit makes sure to aurally document his pleasure, moaning along with each good stroke and sighing as Mark's grip tightens. He rocks his hips up to meet Mark's.

Mark is right here, present in the moment, Eduardo can just tell, as their kisses get better and more coordinated, as he moans into Eduardo's mouth. He feels like he's grounding Mark, and like Mark is grounding him, tight, fitting together perfectly. He comes first, into Mark's fist and all over their chests, feeling his orgasm pound through him like he's lost under an ocean wave. When he resurfaces, Mark is grunting against him, thrusting against him, and he resumes his hold on Mark's cock, jerking him off like the world depends on this orgasm. 

Mercifully, blissfully, and like a miracle, Mark comes with a series of a jagged sighs, jerking against Eduardo until he stills and collapses on top of Eduardo like a ton of bricks. And then he just... stays like that.

He pushes him up and rolls out from underneath him, his skin cooling immediately from the loss of contact. He turns and looks to Mark, who's flopped on his stomach, his head turned to Eduardo. He's half-asleep, peaceful, almost childlike. When he sees Eduardo looking at him, he smiles with abandon.

He lets Mark rest for a few more minutes before they debrief. Before he congratulates Mark on the accomplishment. Before they dress and schedule an appointment for next week. Before Mark walks out, back into his own life, and Eduardo spends the rest day of the day unable to get Mark out of his mind.

But, in the moment, Mark's eyes slip closed, and Mark laughs to himself, like he doesn't believe what's happened. He looks... sweet. Eduardo can't take his eyes off of him.


	3. Session Three

Eduardo goes out to The Cafe, a packed club in the Castro with go-go boys and stiff drinks. It's not a habit, but it is the fulfillment of a need, an itch to be scratched. The music is loud, thumpa-thumpa in his ears and lungs, and it's dark, smoky from manufactured smoke, lights strobing around the room catching boys and men, beautiful and tall and striking. Eduardo stays at the bar, watching and drinking.

He's there for awhile before he hears, "Hello, love," whispered in his ear. A familiar hand on his hip.

He turns, and brightens even as he steels himself. "Colin, hey."

Colin grins, looking at Eduardo like he always does - a little too fond, for a little too long. "What a lovely turn of events, to see you here. Thought tonight was going to be dreadfully dull. Perhaps - not."

"Perhaps not," Eduardo agrees. He weighs his options for a second, and the devil you know is better than one... unknown. Or something. The booze is going straight to his head. He puts a hand to the lapel of Colin's jacket, holding on tight. "Do you want to dance? Drink?"

"You know me, two left feet."

Eduardo indicates with his chin to the writhing masses of bodies on the dance floor. "It's not really about the foxtrot. You can just hang on to me."

Colin raises an eyebrow. "Is that right? Well, in that case, I'm game." He finishes his drink and takes the hand Eduardo offers.

They dance - or more accurately, cling on to each other. Eduardo is starting to feel the effects in earnest of his whiskey drinks, loosening his ligaments, and he turns his back to Colin, rubbing his ass shamelessly against Colin's hardening dick. Colin is clutching his hips, and he whispers into Eduardo's ear, "Oh, pet, the things I want to do to you."

Eduardo himself is getting hard, from Colin, from the idea of Colin, and as Colin moves his hand from his hip to his upper thigh, achingly close to his cock, Eduardo thinks he sees Mark. He's not sure, at all, and he's still not sure even as he and possibly-Mark make eye contact. But then possibly-Mark breaks contact, walking away, and Eduardo tracks him with his eyes until he can't anymore, swallowed whole by the crowd. He takes a moment to shake it, feeling like he'd just been shoved, like he needs to catch his breath. And once he does, he turns around in Colin's arms.

"It's late for someone your age," he teases, curling a hand around Colin's lapel again, staring at his knuckles tight around the material. "Shouldn't you be home in bed already?"

Colin nods solemnly. "Yes." He unwraps Eduardo from his arms and tugs at his hand, and Eduardo can't help the coy smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth.

Colin gives him what he wants, to be fucked soundly, and hard, and more than once. He pulls out slow after the second time, easing out of Eduardo, and removes the condom. Eduardo falls to the mattress from his elbows and knees, landing spent and sweaty on his front. Colin comes back to him, settling in next to him, dropping a kiss on his shoulder blade. "That was incredible," Colin says.

"That was fun," Eduardo agrees, half-dead and very loopy from too many orgasms.

"Bit of an understatement, that," Colin says.

"Mmm," is all Eduardo can manage back. 

They lay there quietly, breathing softly, and Eduardo is almost to sleep when Colin asks, "So why don't we ever end up together for more than a night?"

Eduardo's eyes pop open at that. This is his least favorite question, a query Colin insists upon at least quarterly. "Because you don't like what I do?"

Colin shrugs. "I don't not like it. It's more like - I don't understand."

"What's to understand?" Eduardo asks rhetorically. "I'm a therapist."

Like always, Colin scoffs, "Who has sex for money."

People in glass houses, etc. Colin is a partner at a hedge fund, an institution known for its unethical practices and screwing people - with their pants on. Eduardo should know; his father is in finance, and Eduardo was too until he got out to follow his own desires. "Boiled down to its parts, your job isn't so much better."

After a beat, Colin ignores what Eduardo's said and replies, "You know, darling, I imagine something better for us. You and I together. You on my arm. I can fix you up with something proper in my industry, or you could not work at all. Pursue your interest in weather-"

"That was a long - I'm not interested in that anymore."

"I remember your bedroom in Miami." Eduardo flushes at that. "Full of satellite storm imagery. Not exactly a typical set up. But then again you're not so typical."

Home from Harvard, Eduardo had stumbled across Colin during his parents New Year's Eve party. What had flourished after that initial drunken hookup was a long string of nights in bed together, but nothing else, a fact that Eduardo regarded with some small measure of chagrin but no deep regret.

"We're never together for longer than a night, and we're never going to end up together, because there's always someone younger and needier," Eduardo says.

Colin chuckles. "I don't know about that, darling."

Eduardo exhales with frustration. He stares up at the ceiling. "This is going to sound like a joke, but I believe in monogamy. Not for everyone, but for me. And you - don't." Not to mention the amount of time he's spent in his own therapy trying to unyoke himself from a desire for father figures.

"True," Colin says softly. "I don't see much use for permanent coupling, or at least, exclusive coupling."

"And there, Colin, is why this can't be more than this." He kisses him chastely and gets out of bed, collecting clothes from their frenzied patternless pattern on the floor. "Besides, I don't need saving. I like my job. I like helping people."

"Well, good," Colin says, yawning. "You're like Mother Theresa. With a cock."

He's hearing that in his head - Mother Theresa with a cock - when Mark arrives for their third appointment. Instead of sulking, Mark walks in eagerly, greeting Eduardo with a nod and half-smile. 

"How are you, Mark?" He asks as they pass down the hallway to the bedroom.

From in front of him Mark nods. He turns slightly to say, "Good. I'm - yeah." He takes a seat on the bed and looks up at Eduardo. "I felt, um, good. After last time." Eduardo takes a seat next to him, feeling awkward, like he's on a first date. He sits on his hands and Mark continues. "I went out. To a... club. Which isn't something I'd ever do in a million years, or by force or threat - but I did. To feel..." Mark looks like he's trying to figure out the right words in his head so that he can feed them to his mouth, but none come. He shakes his head. "Nothing happened with anyone, but I saw someone, and I imagined that he and I could've..." He lowers his head, his expression masked. "He was beautiful. But he was. With someone. So."

Eduardo remembers seeing Mark last night, possibly, and he wonders who the man Mark saw was, but he shakes it off. "I'm glad you went out, and that you wanted to connect with someone. That is very, very promising," he says, offering as big a smile as he can.

Mark nods into his lap.

"So, today," Eduardo continues, "Today is up to you, what we do, but I think we should try to have sex."

Before the word 'sex' is fully out of his mouth, Mark is agreeing, "Okay."

Eduardo is pleased that this is working so well. Maybe too well. "Good, I'm glad. Well, we can build on last week-"

Mark starts shedding clothes, his eagerness seeming to eclipse any awkwardness, and he gets into bed before Eduardo even moves from his spot on the edge of the bed. He sits just a second longer, thinking. The last session had been tinged in passion, which wasn't bad, per se, but he's starting to sense that he has to at least attempt some boundaries between them. He can see what could happen.

Eduardo undresses in the bathroom and walks out naked, slipping between the sheets, and Mark shoots him a look of perplexity, but he doesn't answer them. "Okay!" Eduardo says brightly. "So I'm - I will -" He takes a deep breath. "We can talk just a bit about what you want-"

"I want to fuck you," Mark says cleanly, clipped consonants and all.

Eduardo smiles at Mark's comfort in boldness, molding the pillow under his head. "What would you envision happening?"

Mark shrugs. "Getting you... ready. Then. You know."

Eduardo purses his lips, and nods. "I think that's a good plan. Though, with a partner you might want to be open to spontaneity. Foreplay."

Mark sighs, impatient. "You asked what I envisioned. I figured that some, like, diversions are par for the course. To use a metaphor for a sport I hate."

"Don't tell my father that," falls out from Eduardo's lips, and he quickly folds his lips inward against each other, as if to stall other words from dropping, too. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. That's inappropriate, and, definitely not sex talk." He forces an uncomfortable laugh, unsure of where that personal detail - and about his father, no less - sprouted from.

Mark's face is open, his guard down, as he shakes his head and replies, "I don't mind. I wouldn't knowing more about you."

Eduardo gulps. Yikes. "Understandable. But, perhaps, another time?" He looks to Mark's nascent erection. "You seem to be... motivated."

Mark blushes, moving closer to Eduardo. He tucks a kiss into the crook of Eduardo's neck, and trails kisses down his neck. "I want to - I'm good at giving head," Mark blurts out, his breath hot against Eduardo's collarbone. 

Eduardo passes an indulgent hand through Mark's hair. "Are you sure-"

"If there's a chance I can get you off, it will help me."

Eduardo's glad Mark can't see his fond smile. "There's a good chance." And without any further warning, Mark rockets down Eduardo's body and takes his cock into his mouth. Intense from the start, Mark slowly swallows all of his cock, in flagrant disregard of a gag reflex. It would be impressive if he wasn't driven mad by it, close to coming the entire time. Mark clutches Eduardo by the hips possessively, and squeezes him with the muscles in his throat, and Eduardo may be a surrogate partner, an attractive gay man in San Francisco with plenty of access to sex in his personal life, but he finishes down Mark's throat with one of the best orgasms he's had in some time.

He's limp on the bed, arms and legs spread akimbo, as Mark climbs his body, leaving a kiss on his chin, triumphant. "That was okay?" He asks smugly.

"I think you know it was, Mark," he replies, trying to sound put-upon instead of deliciously drained of life force.

"I'd like to - can I touch you?" Mark asks reverently. Eduardo nods. Last night Colin didn't ask, just took, which is what Eduardo likes. But not at work. Work is like cooking classes: you teach the exact way to make the recipe, and from there improvisation is encouraged.

Eduardo leans over for the lube and condoms, pulling them from the side table drawer. Mark looks excited, though trying to hold back, and Eduardo leans up to kiss him. 

He has this fear, this small fear, that for the first time his professional, impenetrable shield might be compromised. That somehow - somehow - Mark has managed to sneak through. And Eduardo knows that if great sex follows that mind-blowing orgasm, he might be a goner. 

He's unprepared for the implications of that.

But it's too late, and they're midsession, and Mark is making such wonderful progress... and maybe Eduardo wants to be a goner. 

Mark fits a well-lubed fingertip to Eduardo's hole, and slowly pushes in, watching Eduardo very intently. He's tight, even after last night, and he reaches up to kiss Mark again, hoping the distraction will help him relax. It works, a little, and he begins to open for Mark, one finger, then two. Three. Mark is grazing Eduardo's prostate and it has him begging Mark to fuck him. 

Goner.

Reluctantly, it seems, Mark pulls out and lines up between Eduardo's legs, like a plane getting ready to take off. There's this moment of pause. Stillness. "Get on with it," Eduardo urges impatiently, out of nowhere, and Mark chuckles, a light, soft sound, and then he's shifting slowly inside.

He's tight, though stretched out, and Mark's cock is of average girth, so all things being equal Mark slides home after a few pumps. Eduardo looks up into his eyes, loopy. "This is good, this is really good," he says, and Mark pulls out and then slams back in, Eduardo's eyes shutting, pinched. After that he offers no more therapeutic advice or counsel, only grunts and moans, and they fill the quiet in the room alongside Mark's own spectrum of sounds. Mark hoists Eduardo's legs up, holding them higher, thrusting deeper.

And then he's hitting Eduardo's prostate with delicate accuracy, and Eduardo is losing his mind. He clings to Mark, wrapping his legs around him, only wanting more and deeper and hotter. "This feels so fucking good," he groans unprofessionally in Mark's ear, and Mark fucks into him harder.

He's coming way before he'd wanted, hoping this acutely wonderful feeling would go on longer, but nevertheless he's spent and loose limbed and Mark is still gathering him into his arms as he gets erratic in his thrusting, and soon he's coming, coming, coming, and stilling.

They lay together not talking for awhile after Mark rolls off of him. Silent. Quiet. Awkward if Eduardo wasn't the most exhausted he's ever felt, tensionless and whole.

"Your father likes golf," Mark asks into the ether and it catches Eduardo by surprise. 

He laughs. "He does. That, and making money, and disapproving of my life." Eduardo squints his eyes closed. A great combination of too much personal information and bitterness. Great. This is what truly great orgasms do to him; he tells the truth.

"Ah. Yeah, I was kind of curious what happens at Thanksgiving when the topic of your job comes up." Mark's voice is full of empathy, and so much warmth; it is a gentle surprise.

He turns to look at him. "Since I don't go home for holidays... theoretically, my father would be put off by my job, my sexual orientation, living in California... you name it."

Mark smiles. "How does a nice boy like you get into this?"

Eduardo smiles back. "How do you know I'm nice?"

Mark looks at him witheringly, while still holding on to something like a smile. "I've spent hours naked with you, getting to know you. You're nice. That's not just a professional demeanor."

Eduardo nods his acknowledgment and agreement. "I was a finance major, I graduated with a degree in finance but." He sighs. "I hated it. It was monotonous, and I didn't feel good about what I was doing." He squirms a little at the next part. "My father has this... business associate... he and I." Mark's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Well. He had moved here permanently after some itinerate years around the world, and I came to visit and then I just... stayed. And I worked through some stuff in therapy, about being gay, and through that I learned about surrogate partner work."

"Did you go to a surrogate?"

Eduardo shakes his head. "My problem was interrelational." Suddenly he can't stand the idea that he might talk about his father anymore, so he shifts the conversation. "One thing we don't cover is sexual orientation and coming out, with the thinking that you've been there, done that with your other therapists. But. Tell me, I'm curious."

Mark nods, and shrugs. "Not that much to tell. I spent my early youth thinking I was asexual, then my sisters made me go see Titanic." Eduardo tries to hide his smile. "It was all Leo, all the time." Mark gives a rare laugh, then grows wistful. "But, it was just hard - I'm a geek, right? Nobody, especially gay guys, is trying to jump into bed with somebody who..."

"It's different now, isn't it?" Eduardo asks. "Time Person of the Year. That's gotta do something."

He shakes his head. "I don't know. I still feel like that kid in my room hacking into something I shouldn't." He looks at Eduardo with hooded, tired eyes. "God, I talk a lot with you. More than I do with anyone else."

"Well, there's a very good reason for that," Eduardo says. "You're connecting me with pleasure and orgasms. It kind of loosens the tongue."

Mark raises an eyebrow and Eduardo grins. They lapse back into silence.

"So how many more sessions?" Mark asks.

Not enough. Too many. "We've had three so far, including today. Which means zero to five more, wherever feels right."

"And... what do you think feels right?"

Eduardo's throat goes dry. "Uh. Well. You've made incredible, truly incredible progress. But I think, well, what would you think about being the partner to be penetrated? For the full spectrum of experience?" Mark's eyes dance a little. Eduardo coughs. "It'll be good. For when you meet a partner. You can... really have all the tools. He'll be ready for you, and you for him."

"So, one more session," Mark says slowly. Eduardo nods curtly and Mark smiles just enough to produce a dimple in his cheek. "Okay," Mark says.

"Okay," Eduardo says.


	4. The Final Session

Eduardo greets the day by hitting the snooze button and burrowing back under the duvet. Since changing careers he rarely has a morning that makes him dread work, but he does today, because today he's seeing Mark.

Sessions with a surrogate are client-focused. Eduardo knows this, Eduardo is all about this, and has been with Mark, too. Sessions with a surrogate should not include a surrogate encouraging the client to 'fuck him harder.' Encouragement has a place in a session, no question, but it's important to remember it's still a session. An artificial environment. A laboratory. A workplace. A profession. Eduardo had lapsed, and that rests solely on his shoulders.

It is not unheard of for a surrogate to connect emotionally and physically with a client; he knows of at least one of his colleagues who married a former client. But Eduardo said he'd never be one of them, concerned to open himself like that. He's looking for love, sure, but he's aware of the power imbalance in this work, and to him it rings just a little... creepy. And if it happened once, who's to say it wouldn't happen again?

He knows he already went over the edge of his own boundaries with Mark, against carefully crafted rules. At the heart of it, he's not sure how it happened - Mark is not his type, physically or in any other way. But he can't get him out of his mind.

He gets out of bed and showers, dressing up more than usual or more than his job necessitates. He has little need for suits, hasn't since he started his training in sex surrogacy, but today he dresses in a black button up and black suit. Wingtips. His grandfather's ring and bag. Being so out of character allows him to feel a little bit like someone else, and that helps. Someone professional. This is business, after all.

But when Mark comes to his office door, Eduardo's resolve almost melts on sight. He takes a deep, steadying breath and studies Mark in parts: his curly hair in need of a trim, his fleece sweatshirt, his dumb t-shirt with an Arm & Hammer logo. His hopeful but muted face.

He admits Mark to his office with a smile that turns painful as soon as he turns his head, away from Mark. "How was your week?" He asks.

Mark turns before going down the hall. "Um - good. Yeah. Good." He looks like he wants to say more, something else, but he shuts his mouth like a trap and turns around, heading to the bedroom, and Eduardo can only follow.

It's a little awkward; he can tell. It sometimes gets this way - when the sex is good, when there's been such a significant breakthrough - and at least this he is prepared for. "Have you been thinking about our sessions?" He asks to break the ice, giving the space for a general, monosyllabic answer or one that gets more to the heart of the matter.

But Mark evades him with a shrug, his concentration on undressing. "Yeah. A little," he replies.

Eduardo moves like lightening and goes over to him, stilling his hands as they unbutton his jeans. "Mark. Slow down. Everything okay?"

Mark stares at him then with those piercing blue eyes. He nods sharply and leans forward to kiss Eduardo, an expression Eduardo accepts with his reptilian brain stem, and he melts into the kiss and its sweet pressure. Mark kisses him like a fiend, like a drowning man, and when he touches Eduardo, electricity jolts through his entire body.

What he's doing, where and with whom, finally clicks in softly and he pulls away slowly, his eyes still closed until Mark's face is in focus. He's still fully dressed in battle armor that belongs to Eduardo Saverin, investment banker, a professional. "That was very nice, Mark," he forces out of his mouth, quieting all that threatens to stream from his heart.

Mark backs up a step, not looking pleased with the positive reinforcement - looking, in fact, a little pissed. He continues getting undressed, though, and slips into bed.

The truth? The truth is that Mark was entirely his type. He remembers a boy in a class at Harvard, too smart for his own good, sleepy eyed even at 11 A.M. He's not sure if it was Mark, his memory can't be jogged that well, but he remembers how that boy kept his attention, how he scribbled in the margins of his notebook and barely paid attention in class because of that boy. How, if he'd been more attune to his own self then, he'd have bumped into him on purpose at a party, introduced himself, made a friend. Made more than that.

Eduardo stands at the side of the bed, shedding his coat as Mark watches. He takes off his ring, his watch. Unbuttons his shirt. "Mark, today-"

"I know. I want you to. I've been," he visibly squirms, "thinking about it." He rears up on his knees, the sheet sliding off his naked body, and moves gracelessly to Eduardo. "Can I - take your clothes off?"

Eduardo nods solemnly, and Mark is solemn, too, sliding Eduardo's shirt off his body, unfastening his pants, removing his belt. When Mark pulls Eduardo's pants down, he catches his eye and won't break the look, and it makes Eduardo straight up shudder. His pants pool at his feet and Mark quickly yanks down his boxer briefs, too, and his eyes drop to Eduardo's cock. He looks up, his eyes filled with something that makes Eduardo uneasy, like he's earned something he doesn't quite deserve.

"Thanks," Mark says softly. He reaches out and touches Eduardo's sternum. "That was nice, Eduardo," he says, and he knows he's being teased. He puts a hand over Mark's hand and smiles.

"Are you sure you want to-" Eduardo begins to ask, but Mark cuts him off by saying, "Don't be stupid," and lowers himself so he's eye-level with Eduardo's cock, and takes the head into his mouth.

"Mark," Eduardo says, his voice breaking. His eyes close because he can't watch; it's too good, he's feeling too much. The slick of Mark's hot mouth has him hard, and the way Mark whimpers around his cock - it's becoming very clear that Mark is doing more instructing than Eduardo. 

He just has to get through this session, and then Mark will be fully confident, Eduardo's job done. They could stop right now, in fact, but he truly believes that this experience is useful for Mark - the extent and full berth of human male sexuality.

He pulls his hips back, untangling himself from Mark's grasp, and looks down at that open face, that soft red mouth. "To do what you'd like to do - we need to stop now," he says.

Mark gets up, back to his knees on the bed, closing the space between them, their chests a whisper apart. "We've stopped." Mark darts a kiss to Eduardo's lips before falling back onto the bed on his back. "Where's your drawer? With the lube?"

Eduardo doesn't answer, just steps out of the clothes at his feet, and gets into bed, grabbing the lube on his way. "So, I'm going to put lube on-"

"I know how this works," Mark interrupts. He positions himself on his back, his legs spread. "I don't have, like, that much experience - but with my... issues... there were only a couple of things I could do."

Eduardo finds that he's completely aroused by this while being achingly jealous, dueling feelings that make him feel stupid in equal measure. He lays down next to Mark and strokes his taut stomach. "From our conversations, you sort of intimated that - that you'd never..."

Mark shakes his head. "Few and far between. Nothing ever really got started. And when things didn't go well, for me, I didn't want to stop. So I'd blow him. Or he'd fuck me. Whatever.

"The first time I ever... came, though, with someone else, was with you. And the first time I ever... topped." Mark looks away. "I can't explain what it's meant."

And then he doesn't try, and Eduardo wouldn't expect any different. Eduardo kisses Mark's stomach and slicks a finger in lube, pressing against him. "So this will be a breeze, then. I thought it would be - a new thing." He breaches Mark then, slowly, carefully, and Mark's eyes flutter closed. "But you're an old pro," he continues, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Not so much. There weren't many guys, or many times, and this is - different." Mark's face tightens, and Eduardo, of course, checks in. "I'm okay," Mark says. "Just - but I can take another finger."

Eduardo complies, but does so gently until Mark visibly relaxes. He then grazes Mark's prostate, which he can tell by the seizing in Mark's body, and the, "Oh shit," that falls out of Mark's mouth.

"Don't be gentle," Mark pants. "I don't need you to - I like it-" Eduardo adds another finger and watches Mark, the immediate discomfort rolling through his body that gives way to pleasure, his eyes blown open, pupils big.

It is an understatement to say how arousing Eduardo is finding this.

Mark begins spreading his legs slowly until he's completely wide, and Eduardo makes his way between his legs, the condom in arm's reach. As soon as he's there, Mark hitches his legs up around Eduardo, his knees at Eduardo's hips. Into the side of Eduardo's neck Mark is panting, "I want, I want - I need you."

And that sweeps Eduardo away, downhill, and he's putting on a condom and sliding inside Mark, and he's not doing it so Mark will heal and be a good partner to some other guy. He pulls out almost all the way, repositioning himself, and then slides back in, slowly, all the way home. He's doing this, yes, because Mark needs help learning his way through intimacy, but also because Eduardo can't hold back. Because he likes him. Because he hasn't felt this way for anyone in a long time.

Mark is clawing at his back, demanding that he be faster and harder, but Eduardo takes his time, all slow pushes into Mark, feeling every inch of the experience, and he closes his eyes, his mouth pressed to Mark's neck.

But eventually he goes faster, following orders, his arms bracketing Mark's head. He looks at him then, and it is scary - the way Mark is looking at him. Like. Maybe.

But before he gets a better look, Mark's delirious face changes and he asks, "Can we do something? I wanna ride you."

"Oh - okay," is all his brain can muster. He pulls out, which feels like heartbreak, and flips onto his back. Mark positions himself over Eduardo quickly and without shame, and Eduardo takes a brief moment to be proud - Mark has come such a long way - but it doesn't last too long because Mark is sinking down on his cock and he is going to lose his mind.

It feels so good. Mark feels so good. He puts his hands to Mark's hips but Mark bats them away, leaning over Eduardo and pinning his hands over his head. 

This stopped being therapeutic awhile ago and became about fucking, and there's no blood flow to his brain to tell him it's not advisable. He bucks his hips, thrusting up into Mark, and Mark leans in closer, to get more, chasing the drag on his prostate.

They fuck like this for minutes, and not much more. Mark is hard, and Eduardo wedges a hand between them to jerk him off. Mark once again slaps his hand away. "Want you to make me come," he says, his voice mostly a sigh, and then he leans in and kisses Eduardo, their bodies flush together.

The kiss is wet, and sharp, their tongues searching each other and then their mouths mashed together. It is inelegant and passionate and Eduardo is getting close. 

"Fuck," Mark mutters against Eduardo's mouth. He continues to rise and fall on Eduardo's dick, but he looks between them. Mark is growing soft. 

Eduardo experiences a moment of panic; going backward is not in the plans. He reaches out to stroke Mark. This he can do. "Not everyone can do this, physiologically." He is really proud that he could bust out a seven syllable word while getting fucked. "Maybe with more time, or with another partner-"

Mark smothers him with another kiss, and tightens around him in the most perfect way, and he can't help but come, losing his mind in the process, getting wrenched around metaphorical corners and drifting down, lower, back to earth. Mark slips off of him, resting at Eduardo's side, and once he's recovered, a bit, he climbs on top of Mark and slinks down, taking his nearly flaccid cock into his mouth. He can fix this. He's been here before. He puts a hand to the base of his cock and sucks in earnest, easing in to hard and firm. He moans against his dick.

"I'm not going to come," Mark says with a sigh. "I know it."

Eduardo pulls off and rests his head on Mark's abdomen, looking at him. "Mark, you can. Even if you don't today, you have and you will again. You have been doing so well."

Mark shakes his head. He rolls away, and Eduardo chases him up his body, and pulls at his shoulder, getting him to turn toward him.

When he does, Mark looks sad. He's quiet, searching for words, and then he says, achingly and plainly, "I don't want this to end. I - I don't want another... partner." He looks at Eduardo so openly it almost hurts. "I like you, and I don't like anybody." He shrugs. "I trust you. I feel better after I've seen you, though I'm - never happy to leave."

Mark's admission fills the room - first quietly, then unavoidably. Eduardo's heart beats fast, and the worst feeling brews in his gut, like there is conflict in his bones. He says the first and easiest thing that comes to mind.

"It would be unprofessional."

Mark scowls, and Eduardo immediately regrets his words. It doesn't say nearly enough.

Mark is shaking his head wildly as he replies,"I know you think that, like, this is me attaching on because of sex, but - we have a connection. Don't we?" Mark asks, and it throws Eduardo through a loop - the naked honesty, the way Mark isn't afraid. It's a pleasant surprise, that he can say what he wants, but it's still hard to fathom.

Eduardo isn't a robot. He's been attracted to clients before, but he's never developed feelings for someone; it's never gone that far or he's never let it get that far. Either way he's staring at Mark and wishing that everything was different, because Mark is right: they have a connection. They have an undeniable spark. They both know it. But Eduardo just - can't - can't go there, can't open himself up to someone who's a client, and so he takes a deep breath and says, "I can't, Mark. I'm really sorry."

Mark stares at him for a good ten seconds; ten seconds is a remarkably long amount of time, and he shivers under his gaze, especially when it turns steely and reptilian. "That's cowardly," Mark spits out, tearing out of the sheets and beginning to dress. "Maybe you could use some therapy, Eduardo."

And so maybe he could, but it doesn't matter right now. Mark slaps a check down on the nightstand and it's jarring. Eduardo holds his tongue from what he really wants to say, and instead says, "Mark, I respect the way you feel, but your treatment is most important, and-"

"This stopped being treatment awhile ago," Mark mutters, his back to Eduardo. He zips his flies and looks at him, one searching look, and then he storms out, the door slamming behind him.

Eduardo sits in that bed for a long time, staring at the wall, thinking of absolutely nothing in particular.

The next day he sees a new client, Peter, for the first time. At 62 he'd divorced his wife after decades of marriage and clandestine affairs with men, and had picked up and moved to San Francisco to really do this - start over, meet someone. Start again.

They begin with the intake and Eduardo knows exactly what lays in front of them: body scan, exploration of erotic zones, some work around what it means to have sustained sexual relationships with men that are free from shame and take place outside of the closet. Eduardo talks about some of this, in brief, because Peter seems so engaged and eager to begin. 

When Eduardo asks if Peter has any questions, he nods. He does. "Eduardo, I've spent my whole life hiding in plain sight. I was married to my best friend for almost forty years but there was no... spark. And there were a lot of guys, and not a lot of love." He shakes his head. "And I don't know how to - how do you fall in love? Find a person? Love them?"

Eduardo had a rough night. Very little sleep, wracked with guilt and unable to shake the feeling that he'd made the wrong call. It's with this rock in his heart that he answers this less than clinical question.

"It's chemistry," he says. "It makes you stupid, it makes you strong. You think about them when you're not with them. If you're lucky you find someone you genuinely like. Who you respect. Who makes you laugh."

Peter smiles broadly. "I hope that's in the cards for me."

Eduardo can't help but smile back, even amidst how terrible he feels. "Me, too." He nods towards the bedroom. "Shall we?"


	5. Epilogue

The weather on the Peninsula is laughingly always better than in San Francisco, and it's because of this that Eduardo is enjoying this lovely Palo Alto day, sunny and warm, eating his lunch outside on University Avenue before his talk at Stanford. He's reviewing his notes for the lecture he's going to give when he hears his name being called, and his head snaps up; he'd know that voice anywhere, and hearing it makes his heart race.

Mark is approaching him, looking the same as he did six months ago - maybe more tired, but otherwise exactly the same. "What are you doing here?" Mark asks, bewildered but sounding not entirely unhappy to see him.

Eduardo wipes his mouth with his napkin, then rises to his feet. He almost sticks out his hand to shake Mark's but thinks better of it before he acts. "Mark, hey," he says softly. "I'm here - for a lecture. I'm giving a lecture at Stanford."

"I don't want to interrupt your lunch," Mark says quickly, even backing up a step, and Eduardo isn't sure if he's trying to get away, but he's not going to let him, he knows it right away as the feeling hits his gut.

"No, you're not. I mean - but, it's okay that you are." He fits his lips into a smile, a hopeful one. "I have - my talk, but I wonder if I could... see you later." He takes a big gulp of air and hopes it's not the most noticeable thing ever to have occurred, and he waits. It feels like forever.

He can't tell what's happening in Mark's head, he's back to wearing his heart on the inside, and Eduardo takes another deep breath as he faces off with this stony version of Mark. He finally replies, asking, "Do you want to see my office? I've seen yours, let me show you mine."

His lame joke takes Eduardo by surprise, and he laughs too hard and loud. "Sorry," he says, and Mark nods once, looking maybe a little pleased. He says he'll text Eduardo the address, and he has it a second after he walks away. Eduardo holds his phone tightly in his hand like some lovesick teenager.

The lecture goes well. It's mostly Ph.D. candidates and serious M.A. students, and their questions are probing and excellent. But, much to his embarrassment and chagrin, he's only about halfway there, thinking so much about Mark and the last six months. How he stopped sleeping with Colin because he was repeating a boring though destructive pattern, one he'd have warned himself about if he'd been his own patient. How he'd slept with a few men but mostly spent time alone, traveling and reading. Jogging up and down torturous San Francisco hills. He hadn't been able to get his mind off Mark and here they were, bumping into each other. Eduardo makes a habit of listening to the universe and he's willing to do it now, putting himself out there even if it means being out there alone.

With trepidation Eduardo arrives at the Facebook offices. In the lobby he says he's here for Mark Zuckerberg, and the guard looks doubtful but places a call and says to wait right there, which he does, with continued trepidation. She eyes him warily and he plays idly on his phone.

A strawberry blonde with a messy ponytail comes to fetch him. Polly, she says, introducing herself with a firm handshake that betrays her slight exterior. "How do you know Mark?" She asks as they enter the elevator, her pass admitting them to the top floor.

"Harvard," he decides on, and nods once.

"That's so cool, awesome," she says brightly, but without selling it too hard. She's ushering him towards a glass-walled office, in the middle of the hubbub of developers and product managers. His mouth is definitely hanging open, because Mark did absolutely all of this, is the reason for it. Eduardo already knows, but now he knows for sure: Mark is incredible.

Polly drops him off in the seating area right near Mark's office and he waits, watching the hive until Mark is ready. He hears the hum of machines, the soft conversations over white noise, then a jolt of laughter.

When Mark pops his head out of his office, he apologizes brusquely and immediately. "Sorry," he says. "I wasn't trying to be self-aggrandizing, I really had to take that call. Come in." Eduardo joins him in the office and Mark calls over his shoulder, "Thanks Polly."

"Yup!"

Eduardo circles the office, looking at photos on the walls, at a whiteboard with blue writing he can't decode, a flat screen and video conference station. "So this is where the magic happens," Eduardo says irreverently.

Mark snorts. "Hardly. This is where I get berated for not being a good CEO, not doing enough press, shaking enough hands, playing nice enough." He looks out into the office past the glass, and points. "That's where the magic happens."

Eduardo looks out too, but only for a second; with Mark in his sights it's hard to look elsewhere. He looks at him, and Mark gazes back for a short moment. But then it passes, and it's silent inside the glass-encased office, and Eduardo is very aware of the possibility of being observed.

"I, uh, I used to be out there too, I didn't want - levels. Hierarchy. I wanted to be the boss, of course, but not, like, overlord. My COO made me get into an office when we moved because - sensitive information, meetings... this is boring, I think, and I'm just stalling." He clears his throat, and turns to Eduardo, and Eduardo is immediately struck with a gash of fear, of what Mark might say. But his fears go unrealized as soon as he begins. "It's hard for me to apologize. But, I want to apologize. For my - the last time I saw you I was rude. Not, like, just before on University Ave. The time before." He watches Mark squirm, and doesn't know where this is going. "I should apologize for the way I left things. I, you know, I reacted so poorly. It makes me feel like an asshole every time I think about it." Eduardo wants to look away but it seems like it's sustaining him to keep the eye contact. For Eduardo's part, he's just trying to breathe. To think that maybe Mark - to think they could-

"I should be the one apologizing, Mark, because..." He swallows. He looks at that face, the face he couldn't shake, and he feels like he could dissolve from fear. But he takes a deep breath. "I was wrong. I didn't - I couldn't - I'm sorry. I like you, Mark, and I couldn't say it then, but I'm saying it now and hoping it's not too late." His words hang in the air but he's glad he's said them.

Mark looks shell shocked. His eyes fall to the floor where Eduardo can't read them, and he waits for Mark's response.

Nothing. Nothing. But then his face snaps up and he looks hopeful, less drawn, and a tiny smile starts to take root in the middle of his lips. That's all the encouragement he needs. "Can I take you to dinner?" Eduardo asks. 

Mark nods vigorously but then a thought drops onto his face. "No. Um, sometimes going out is... complicated. Can we go to my house?"

Obviously. Relief and something else floods Eduardo's body, and he trails Mark out of the building and then to his house, large but not ostentatious, atypical for a billionaire. He takes the tour, surprised by the amount of space and lack of furnishing, and they end up with Thai food, dining on paper plates on the island in the kitchen. It's not what he would have thought for their first date, but it's comfortable. It works.

The thing is, they know both everything about each other and yet very little. They keep it easy, talking about being East coast transplants, about Eduardo's vacation in Mallorca and Mark's business trip to Dublin. Brazil. Sonoma. Mark begrudgingly talks about meeting Oprah.

After a couple of beers, Eduardo is relaxing, his shoulders no longer tight with nerves and his tongue loose. Still he only asks a mild question, taking a sip of beer and asks, "So what were you doing downtown in the middle of the day? You don't seem like the type."

Mark gives him a look, a dismissive squint, and chugs a mouthful of beer, the mouth of the bottle fitting between Mark's lips in ways that only inspire filth in Eduardo's mind. His eyes trail this interaction and when his mouth goes dry he licks his lips.

"I think that might be insulting," Mark replies, "but, in the sprit of disclosure - I'm not. The type." Mark squirms in his seat. "I was... on a date." He blushes. "Lunch dates are stupid, but I've been - trying - and it went okay." Mark takes a deep breath and looks to Eduardo. "Really, though, I've just been trying to get you out of my system."

Eduardo tries to hide his smile as he shovels his chopsticks and the pad se ew on them into his mouth. "How's it going?"

"Terribly," Mark says deadpan.

Eduardo wants to ask about his progress, ask if there have been other men, but he's not Mark's surrogate anymore. Maybe he's the partner he prepared Mark for. In that way he might be very selfish, but then Mark is leaning across the the counter to kiss him, yanking on his collar, and it's a different kiss than six months ago. It's unguarded, naked, like he's getting a little piece of who Mark is.

He's dazed when he pulls away. "Can we give this a go?" Eduardo asks. "I want to."

Mark doesn't hesitate when he says, "Okay," and leans in for another kiss.

They fuck in the kitchen, desperately, Eduardo pressed up against the kitchen counter. It's inelegant and stupid, the tile cold against his front, but Mark is warm at his back. He wants, and wants, and Mark gives so good, fucking into him, whispering dirty and delicious things into his ear. And beautiful things, too, and he's weak in the knees for so many reasons.

Mark pulls out and comes all over Eduardo, and they have their first lesson in asking first, but it doesn't last too long. With his prone body pressed against the fridge Mark jerks him to completion and he sags against the stainless steel, the cool metal at his back nourishing his flushed body.

In bed after a shared shower, Eduardo is curling into Mark's back, an arm tight around him, fingers stroking his abdomen. Mark is breathing evenly, a slight rasp in his throat, and Eduardo can barely catch a breath; he's too excited and disbelieving to aspirate normally. He keeps trying, though, deep abdominal breaths failing to take traction low enough in his body. But he's trying. 

They've stopped talking, and it seems they might sleep, but he has this little thought needling him. "In the spirit of full disclosure," Eduardo asks, "that club - did you see me? I thought I saw you."

Mark sighs like he's been caught, the sound ending with just a touch of embarrassed laughter. "Yes. You were with an older guy. You looked... occupied."

"Why didn't you tell me you saw me?" 

Mark turns in his embrace and looks at Eduardo with such lovely affection in his eyes. "I did. The next session. I'd said I'd seen someone, but he was taken."

Eduardo can't remember him saying that, but he's so pleased to hear it. He pinches Mark's cheek between his fingers. "So - you thought I had someone, but you still told me you liked me."

Mark shrugs, like it's no big deal, but his face betrays a self-pride that says otherwise. "I had to take a shot." 

"Good," Eduardo replies, and kisses him again, and again.

They sleep. Mark wakes him up when his loud snore echoes in the room, but he goes right back to sleep, rotating Mark to his side with a soft roll.

In the morning Mark freaks Eduardo out as soon as his eyes are open. He's staring at Eduardo like he's been studying him, lost in thought. "Hi," Mark says, and Eduardo buries his head under a pillow. Mark kisses his shoulder and Eduardo smiles into the mattress.

When he's ready, he emerges to see Mark smiling. "Hi," he says again.

"Good morning," Eduardo replies, squinting against the sun; Mark had opened the shades, and bright light is flooding in.

Suddenly Eduardo has sense of mind to check the time. Fuck. He needs to be at his office in an hour and a half, and from here it'll take at least... and he needs to shower...

Mark is frowning. "What is going on inside your head?" He asks, looking worried.

Eduardo puts forth a reassuring smile. "Nothing. Just scheduling."

Mark's face relaxes. "Oh. Work?" He asks, like it's an obsession he can get behind. Eduardo nods affirmatively. But, before he goes and rushes off, he wants to be sure of one thing. He hedges before he says, "If we're really going to... do this... I hope you won't ask me to leave my job."

Mark looks bewildered. "Why would I? It makes you so happy."

Eduardo can feel his cheeks raising in discreet pleasure at Mark's reply, but he'd be remiss if he didn't say, "Well, if we're going to do this, it's a little - well - it could be a little ostentatious if the CEO of Facebook is dating someone in my line of work."

"I don't give a fuck about what people think," Mark replies firmly and fiercely, his mouth set and his eyes steely.

Eduardo wishes he didn't find that so hot. He rolls on top of Mark to go again.

/end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the feedback! This was a nice jaunt to write. And now back to my 100k wc RPF; oy.


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